Ghost
by KSCrusaders
Summary: The death of a Spectre leaves a gaping void in the lives of those who survive her.  A three part series of vignettes from the perspective of Garrus Vakarian, dealing with her death, absence, and rebirth.  FemShep/Garrus, COMPLETE. Ending spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**Ghost**

_By KSCrusaders (Sable Rhapsody on BSN)_

PART ONE

Garrus briefly considered helping himself to a few drinks before heading off to the Presidium. It wasn't like him, but he couldn't help entertaining the notion. The sooner today was done, the sooner the emotional roller coaster he'd been on since Anderson's email would be over. Maybe there would be some closure at the bitter end.

He didn't want to dwell on it. Hell, he'd spent the last month struggling not to dwell on it. Shepard wouldn't have wanted him to dwell. She would want him to move on, become a Spectre. She would have wanted him to let go of her.

She rarely got what she wanted, not even in death.

The files and accounts of Spectres were automatically frozen upon death, unless they had someone to take control of them within the Spectres-or rarely, as in Kaliya Shepard's case, within the Citadel Council itself. Her professional assets and files had passed to Anderson three weeks ago upon confirmation of her death. But her will, private residence here on the Citadel, personal belongings, and any inheritance of those had yet to be settled.

Garrus dressed quickly, his movements mechanical. Black civvies, as Williams had suggested. No weapons or armor, no personal ornamentation. This might just be a human legal ceremony, but he was determined to look his best out of respect for her.

A lump rose in his throat as he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked nothing like what he usually did, nothing like how she might have remembered him in those last moments. A low growl started in his throat, and he took several deep breaths to compose himself. This was a formality, nothing more. It would take a few hours at most, and then he'd drop by the shooting range, get some practice in for his Spectre training like he'd done every afternoon since Saren's defeat.

He was early, but he wasn't keen on just sitting in his apartment alone and waiting. He made his way hurriedly toward the Presidium, to Councilor Anderson's new office, where Liara and Williams would join him.

They were the last three members of the elite team that defeated Saren. Wrex had gone back to Tuchanka, and Tali to the Flotilla, just days before Shepard's death. With the absurd security around the Citadel during reconstruction, they had no way of getting back in time for any of the memorial services. Alenko had died a hero's death on Virmire. And now Shepard was gone too.

It hadn't sunk in yet. He hadn't really let it. The grief, the anger, the guilt...they hovered at the edge of his mind, a monster waiting until he stopped moving to pounce. He shut his eyes in the shuttle on the way over.

Her face followed him everywhere these days. Not just in the vids and ads and memorial material yet to be taken down from the Citadel's walls. If he looked too hard, stayed still for too long, he could see her. The first time they'd met on the Presidium. Her slamming a merc's skull open with her biotics in Dr. Michel's clinic. Her swift, light footsteps on her way to her induction as a Spectre. The ghost of her walked beside him, a pale imitation in perfect detail.

Before he knew it, he was standing at Anderson's office door. Still a little early. He knocked on the door and was greeted by a somber-faced Captain-no, Councilor-Anderson, clad also in black.

"Councilor," he said respectfully, nodding to Anderson.

"Garrus. Glad you could make it." Garrus was surprised to see Ashley already there, along with a powerfully-built human man, older with steely silver hair and eyes.

"Admiral Hackett, Fifth Fleet," he said at Garrus's inquiring look, holding out a hand for him to shake. Garrus recognized the voice immediately. "Just here representing the Alliance."

"The Alliance?" asked Garrus, puzzled.

Hackett shook his head. "You shouldn't be surprised, Vakarian. Shepard was one of ours before she was a Spectre. One of the best."

He knew that, but this made no sense. Why would the Alliance be present for a reading of her private will? Hadn't they already dealt with Shepard's official records? He was about to ask when he caught Ashley Williams' eye and quickly excused himself.

"What was that all about?" he asked her in hushed tones. He didn't bother with pleasantries about why they were here. The less he thought about it, the better.

"Politics," she said, shaking her head with disgust. "Her official memorial's over, and they can't keep their damn fingers out of her private life. Shepard deserves better."

She continued in a low tone at Garrus's confused look. "Alliance brass thinks she might've left them something in her personal records, since all her professional stuff, Alliance or otherwise, went to the Council. Idiots."

He felt a lick of anger, one that threatened to stoke all the things he'd kept at bay into an inferno. He clenched one hand and slowly mastered himself. "Shepard would never do such a thing," he said with forced calm. Kaliya Shepard was subtle and reserved, but she was a consummate professional and always followed the rules-as long as she could.

"That's what I told Anderson. But I'm just a soldier. Apparently the brass think they knew her better." Ashley made a face and shook her head, glancing sidelong at Hackett, who was still deep in conversation with Udina.

There was another knock on the door, and Dr. Liara T'Soni walked in, looking nervous and a little out of place. She gave a strained smile when she saw Garrus and Ashley, and quickly made her way over to them. Garrus was in no mood for small talk, but the quiet buzz of Liara and Ashley's conversation gave him a convenient distraction.

Shepard's Alliance crew began to trickle in. Chakwas, Joker...Garrus couldn't help but notice that most of these people were the same ones who'd attended her public funeral, people from the mission to hunt Saren in the past few months. But here, they didn't act like colleagues. It was uncomfortable, an unknown territory somewhere between mission crew and something much more personal.

A few minutes later, Anderson cleared his throat, putting a welcome end to the hesitant, stilted small talk. He looked like he wanted to give some sort of preamble, then just shook his head and hit a few keys on his omnitool, bringing up Shepard's will. He took a deep breath and began to read in a carefully flat voice.

_I, Kaliya Shepard, being of sound and disposing mind, declare this to be my will, and revoke any and all wills and codicils I previously made._

_I am, nor have I ever been, engaged in a civil partnership. I have no children, nor any surviving family of whom I am aware._

_I appoint David Anderson as executor of my will. He shall have all powers granted by applicable laws to carry out the provisions in this will for my personal assets. My professional assets and files are to be handled according to Citadel regulations due to my activities in the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance arm of the Citadel Council._

_I have no related inheritors for my personal assets. These are to be liquidated upon my death, sold anonymously. My total net worth is to be used for founding a military scholarship for disadvantaged youths on Earth. My personal records and files on my console are to be permanently erased with no copies made._

_Signed, sealed, published, and declared to be the last will and testament of Kaliya Shepard, before witnesses and legal counsel, this 5th day of November, 2183._

The words washed over Garrus like so much static. Hackett asked Anderson if there was more, and the Councilor simply shook his head. No final closure, no poetic last statement. Just instructions and information-how very like her.

"Shepard's apartment and personal belongings came into my possession upon her death," Anderson was saying. "I'll carry out the details of her instructions, but I could use some volunteers to pack up her things."

"We'll do it. Garrus, T'Soni, and I."

Garrus started out of his trance at the sound of his own name to see Ashley, fire in her eyes as she looked at Anderson. For a moment, Hackett and Anderson looked at each other, as though wondering how to say no. Then Anderson merely nodded and closed the will, looking far older than his years. He handed Ashley the keys to Shepard's apartment, and the people in the room quickly began to trickle out.

It was only upon arriving at Shepard's Presidium residence that Garrus counted how few had been present to hear her will. It'd seemed like a lot more in Anderson's confined office. Her Normandy crew, Hackett, Anderson, and Udina. No family to speak of, some politicians, and just a few friends. Only then did it hit him how alone she really had been at the end of the day. For all the people she'd indelibly touched, this was all that was left of her: a legal document, and a spotlessly clean apartment.

It was one of the nicer apartments in this area, an open and bright three-roomed suite, with wide windows facing into the light, and dark paneled shelves in the living room. But it felt less like a home and more like a hotel-it lacked the immediate warmth of having been lived in, and a thin layer of dust covered all the surfaces.

"Come on," Ashley said. "Let's get this over with."

He couldn't have agreed more. This place was foreign, alien to him, down to the dishes still neatly stacked next to the sink. It felt wrong, like a gauntlet on the opposing hand.

"I'll...err...leave her bedroom and to you and Liara," he said awkwardly, making his way into her kitchen and beginning to pack things away. He couldn't help feeling dirty, like he was intruding on the little flashes of her life that shone through the everyday items.

Silver-rimmed dishes, with floral patterns etched in exquisitely fine detail. A dizzying array of cooking utensils, all well-worn with use and care. A pair of little crystal condiment bowls, in the shape of two sleeping animals. A strange brass tube covered in dials, clearly old and valuable, in a glass display case. He tried to block it out, but his detective's mind automatically filed away every little detail. He could hear Williams and Liara talking softly and focused on that sound instead as he started packing up the kitchen.

"...and I thought I was a tomboy," he heard Williams saying. "No heels here, not one pair."

"Perhaps the commander simply found them uncomfortable," said Liara. "I know I do."

A low chuckle from Williams. "Cute flats, though. She likes...liked...blue."

The conversation from Shepard's bedroom fell quickly silent, and he was back with his own thoughts as he made his way into her living room. He blinked, startled as he realized that the dark paneling covering the walls was in fact shelves, filled with books. Real, old-fashioned human books, fragile paper pages and binding and all. Some of them were locked behind more glass cases.

Fascination won over propriety as he slowly made his way from shelf to shelf, entranced. He turned on his omnitool, translating the human language of the titles. Colorful children's books, novels, collections of poetry, plays. Nonfiction as well-sciences, military history, politics, and a large section on moral philosophy. The ones behind glass were clearly older, the text on their spines faded and dull-maybe hundreds of years old. He could only imagine the prices she must have paid to get them.

There was a large console and desk here too, powered off. Above it hung a small fabric scroll. He held up the omnitool, reading the translation quietly to himself.

_"I must not fear.  
>Fear is the mind-killer.<br>Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.  
>I will face my fear.<br>I will permit it to pass over me and through me.  
>And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.<br>Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.  
>Only I will remain."<em>

Driven by curiosity, he accessed the extranet and looked up the phrase. Some sort of human religious text, maybe? The results came up with an old human novel, of all things, from hundreds of years ago. He kept an eye out for the title as he began packing the volumes away, taking greater care with her precious books than he would have if they were his own.

He found it locked in the final set of shelves. He stared at the worn hardback book in his hands, and a sudden, mad temptation seized him. As though his hands were out of his control, he found himself tucking the volume away in his jacket.

Liara's voice from the hall way suddenly made him jump. "Garrus, we've finished with-"

He turned around and saw her, looking curiously at the empty shelves and the volumes packed neatly away. "I never knew Commander Shepard possessed such a library," she said, sounding fascinated. "It's a pity that it's all being sold."

Garrus nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to speak. Her book weighed more than it looked like it had. Liara crossed to the darkened console, glanced curiously at the scroll hanging over it, then turned back to Garrus.

"What do we do with this?" she asked.

"Wipe it and sell it with everything else, as per Shepard's orders," he said mechanically. Her last set of orders to them...to him.

"What if she had something important on there? Something to do with the mission?"

Garrus shook his head emphatically. Part of him burned with guilty curiosity, but he wasn't going to go poking around in Shepard's things just to sate it. "She wouldn't have. She kept her personal and professional life completely separate. We're wiping it."

Liara booted up her omnitool and he saw the home screen of Shepard's console. A picture of snowflakes-he remembered her once saying she missed the snow. And suddenly, a wave of grief and anger seized his throat. He had to turn away, head for Shepard's room rather than stand there and watch Liara work.

He'd been so close. Little pieces, fragments of the woman behind the Commander, spilled out every day as they got to know each other better. But now not only was Commander Shepard lost to him, but Kaliya, the woman he'd just started to befriend, was disappearing in a swirl of zeroes and ones being erased.

He had to get out of there soon.

"It's like watching her die again, isn't it? A part of her, anyways."

Ashley had stepped up behind him, her voice a little choked. He was about to comment on it when he saw that her eyes were glassy, though no tears fell.

"I think we're done here," she said, still in that odd, constrained voice. Her face softened a little and she added, "I'm sorry. You were close to her."

Garrus closed his eyes and nodded. He wanted to say something, anything, but his throat was still lodged shut. Finally, Williams patted him on the arm as she started heading for the door.

"Go say something to her," she said, turning back in the doorframe and gesturing to Shepard's bedroom. "A prayer, or whatever turians do. She's with God now. She'll hear you."

A sudden, mad urge to laugh seized him as the exact expression Shepard would wear upon hearing such words burst into his mind's eye-a small, bemused smile that just brushed her eyes. He controlled the insanity quickly, his mouth saying pleasantries while he himself was light-years away.

He waited until Liara and Ashley had left before taking Ashley's advice. He went into her room and shut the door behind him.

It too was stripped mostly bare. Open cases sat on the floor-clothes, shoes, photographic prints, a few brightly colored scarves poking out of the top of one storage crate. One was a deep blood-red with subtle patterns that glimmered in the light. He pulled off his gloves and ran one hand along the material. It was cool to the touch, red water made solid.

Garrus sat down on the bed. He'd never been religious himself, and he knew for a fact that Shepard wasn't-he'd asked her about human beliefs once, only to be given a bemused chuckle and a recommendation that he ask Williams instead. For her, gone was gone, death utterly final.

But he'd be lying if he said this place, with the boxed-up debris of her life, wasn't haunted. He didn't know if the spirit that once lived here could hear him. He couldn't say with any certainty that he'd really known who she was. Her file only gave so much.

What had she been like as a child? What were her favorite vids? Her favorite foods? What things had she imagined here alone at night? Her deepest sorrows, her darkest secrets, her greatest joys and most desperate desires...he had only splinters of these with which to form an image of her.

"Shepard," he whispered, feeling distinctly foolish. "Kaliya. I-"

He shook his head and growled in frustration. Even her first name sounded foreign from his mouth. What could he possibly say to an empty room? That he was unspeakably sorry, furious at her for dying, and furious at himself for not being there...that he'd admired and trusted her beyond measure, that she was the inspiration for him doing more, being better. That maybe, in his own fashion, he had begun to think her beautiful in so many ways-

He couldn't do it. She was never coming back. He stormed from the room, and in his haste, didn't even notice the few hot tears that fell on the threshold. Fumbling with the omnitool, he locked the door and left.

It wasn't until he'd reached the Presidium that he realized how far he'd walked, senseless and unfeeling. Garrus took a few deep, slow breaths. His feet had led him here, to the base of the Conduit. Just on the other side of the Presidium were the Council chambers.

Ghostly shapes swam before his eyes as he watched the construction crews working busily. In their shadows and bright uniforms he could see himself, greeting her months before. It was then he realized he had to get off the Citadel, and fast. Spirits were supposed to only exist for a unit or a team, but for him, Kaliya Shepard was in everything. Every sight, every sound, every shadow of every soul. Even his top-of-the-line armor and weapons had been a gift from her.

He didn't think she'd approve of him just running away; he could even see the slight frown on her face, hear the calm but firm voice. You'll make an excellent Spectre, she whispered. The Council will need men like you in the days to come.

"I'm not the Council's man," he murmured back. "I was yours. But you're not coming back."

He turned from the Conduit and began making his way back to his place in the Wards. She was gone for now, but he knew she'd be back, until he summoned the strength of will to let her go.

The only trouble was that he didn't know if he wanted to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ghost**

_By KSCrusaders (Sable Rhapsody on BSN)_

PART TWO

"Don't be such a hard-ass, Garrus," said Sensat as Garrus poked suspiciously at the oddly-shaped package with the butt end of his rifle. "It's clean. And do you really think Butler's wife would send him explosives?"

Garrus stopped prodding and shrugged. "You never know with Butler," he said with a small grin. Sensat may have been the explosives expert, but Butler also had a knack for loud, amateur fireworks. He reached into his pocket and produced his own present, a much smaller package, and set it on top of Mrs. Butler's gift.

He had an hour or so to get some work done before Butler got back from his recon mission. The armory was relatively empty today; Vortash was the only other person in there, running his omnitool over the weapons with his characteristic scowl.

The batarian merely grunted at him before letting out a disgusted snort and tossing one of the Vindicator assault rifles unceremoniously off the gun rack. It fell with a clatter against one of the chairs, bent barrel facing up. "Damn thing's never going to shoot straight again," he said, all four eyes looking accusingly at Garrus.

"You try smashing in a krogan's face with that thing," said Garrus absently as he started cleaning the scope of his sniper rifle.

That got a snort out of Vortash. "Gotta hand it to you, crazy turian bastard. Where'd you pick that one up? C-Sec?"

Garrus shook his head. Not C-Sec. The only time he'd ever seen someone engage a charging krogan like that was-

He abruptly cut off his own train of thought. He merely shook his head, hoping Vortash wouldn't ask questions.

He needn't have worried. The batarian liked a few things in life, and talking wasn't one of them. Garrus heard one of the other entrances to the base open, and the laughing and talking from upstairs got louder, drifting down to the armory on the lower floor. That would be Melanis causing the racket.

The distinct sound of a popping champagne cork echoed down the stairs. Vortash shot Garrus a look, and the turian just rolled his eyes and gestured up the stairs. Alcohol and tech. Vortash's two great loves in life. He sincerely hoped Melanis hadn't been an idiot and mixed up the bottle chirality. He didn't much fancy having to rummage through Krul's stuff looking for the epinephrine injections.

Garrus did have to laugh at how much his men were looking forward to this little impromptu celebration, even getting started without the birthday man. Butler wouldn't mind-probably. It was really more of an excuse for the younger guys who weren't on assignment tonight to blow off some steam.

Garrus checked his watch as he worked his way through resighting the guns. The human should be back any moment now. He pressed the comm in his hardsuit. "Sidonis?"

Static blazed through the comm for a moment and Garrus winced a little. Sidonis always forgot to maintain his own damn armor. "Yeah, boss. Loud and clear."

"Did Butler check in with you and the others already?" Sidonis, Weaver, and Monteague were on stakeout tonight inside a safe house a little ways from a Blue Suns stronghold. The idea was for Butler to scout out the Suns' next shipment of red sand at a nearby dock, then check in with the stakeout team.

"Yeah. About ten minutes ago."

"Ten minutes?" asked Garrus. Immediately, his mind began going through all of the things that could have gone wrong. "What kept him?"

He could almost see Sidonis's shrug. "I take it he's not back yet. Garrus, there were mechs in some of the crates."

Garrus was silent. That meant only one thing. Eclipse had provided the mechs to a rival mercenary gang. They were getting desperate-and dangerous.

"They sure love us, don't they?" said Sidonis dryly. When Garrus didn't reply, he continued. "Butler avoided most of them, but he tripped four and had to give them the slip." Sidonis paused, and Garrus knew he was about to hear bad news. "I think they might be alerted to us now. The active mechs haven't gone off sentry mode, even after Butler left."

Garrus thought about it for a moment. "Don't engage. If any more mechs or Blue Suns turn up, take note of how many and whether they're moving the sand, then get out. Your lives aren't worth a handful of theirs."

Monteague's voice now came through the comm, low and raspy. "Fucking honorable of you. Catch you tomorrow."

Garrus disconnected, relief flooding him. Butler's birthday would have been a bad day for an accident. They'd already had two relatively close shaves in the last few weeks, first with Eclipse, then with Garm almost killing him. The mercs were no longer playing nice-the harder he pushed them, the more erratic and more deadly they got.

Of course, that meant more weaknesses for him to exploit. If Eclipse were providing sentry mechs to the Blue Suns, that inevitably meant fewer mechs protecting their own goods and strongholds. The seeds of another plan began to take root in his mind. He rolled his shoulders, still sore from his narrow shave with Garm. The krogan punched like a dreadnought.

An unruly shout from upstairs and a burst of laughter told him Butler was finally back. Smiling to himself, Garrus put down the sniper rifle and headed upstairs to join the party.

"Vortash even saved some of the good stuff for you, it seems," said Garrus, coming up behind the shorter, stocky Butler and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Happy birthday, Butler."

The human man grinned back at him. "Thanks. Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to get out of this sweaty armor before I get plastered with you." He headed back toward the sleeping quarters, and Garrus settled himself down in an empty chair.

Sensat handed him a glass of dextro wine. The salarian's large eyes were fixed on the large, irregular package from Butler's wife. "What do you think is in there?"

"Sex swing," said Melanis immediately as he took a large swig out of his own glass.

"Of course, for all the asari dancers Butler brings to the hideout of the most wanted men on Omega," said Sensat, poking at Butler's gift with one long finger. "Is it bad if I take a look?"

"Humans get pretty upset if you do," said Garrus. "Something about spoiling the surprise." Liara's curiosity had gotten the better of her just before another human holiday aboard the Normandy. He couldn't help but let his mind drift back to the comically affronted look on Williams' face when she'd seen Liara and Tali with a colorful package in hand, scanning its contents. And then Adams and the rest of the crew had walked in and-

"Back," said Butler, interrupting Garrus's thoughts. He grabbed a glass and poured himself a drink.

"A toast!" said Melanis with annoying cheer. The younger turian had somehow managed to get himself quite tipsy in a relatively short time span. "An epic and stirring speech!"

Sensat and Vortash merely snickered as Butler raised his eyebrows. He looked at Garrus for assistance, but Garrus just grinned back. Butler sighed and thought for a moment before raising his glass.

"Remember today, my friends. Because today, life is good."

Five glasses clinked together, five drinks downed. Garrus made a face as the stuff burned its way down his throat-he'd never been much of an alcohol guy, and a vigilante's salary didn't make for decent drinks. He left that to Vortash, who was on his second bottle and still going strong. Butler dropped into the seat next to Garrus and reached for the smaller of the two packages sitting on the upturned boxes that functioned as impromptu tables.

The rest of the team had already chipped in for a present to Butler-a lovely cloaking upgrade for his hardsuit. They'd installed it yesterday so he'd have it for today's mission. Butler carefully opened the rough brown paper on Garrus's gift. A custom rifle scope fell into his open hands.

"And here I thought I'd have to get a new one out of pocket. Thanks, Garrus."

"You should open your wife's gift. Sensat's going to wet himself with curiosity," said Vortash. He propped his feet up on the nearest box.

The contents of the lumpy package shifted when Butler slowly lifted them. They were wrapped in bright, cheery paper, something Garrus recognized as a human thing. When Butler had painstakingly peeled back the last of the tape, the paper fell away to reveal the strangest assortment of things.

Four odd cylinders with printed images of what looked like plants on them. Two boxes of what Garrus recognized as chocolate. A sizeable stack of datapads containing newer novels-Butler loved to read. And finally, a circular contraption with two moving levers. Butler's eyes lit up at the last object. He picked it up with shaking hands, then fastened the strap around his wrist.

"What...is that?" asked Sensat.

"A watch," said Butler. "What's it look like?"

"What are the little sticks for?" said Melanis, now also crowding in for a better look. "Why are all the numbers on the edge?"

Butler laughed. "No, no. This is an old-fashioned human watch. They still make them as collectors' items. They're mechanical, not electronic. He flipped the face over to show the fascinated turian and salarian the tiny little cogs and springs driving the device. "You wind it up every day."

"Not the most practical object," said Sensat.

"Practicality's got nothing to do with it. My brother got me one of those on my eighteenth birthday," said Butler, and everyone fell silent. Butler's older brother had been killed three years ago in a firefight with the Blood Pack. "I broke it when I punched out a mouthy merc outside Afterlife. I can't imagine what my wife must've gone through to get it."

He looked at the rest of them, then down at the glass in his hand. "How did you guys know about birthdays, anyway? I thought aliens didn't really do them."

"I worked with some humans a few years back," said Garrus. "Seems like you celebrate just about anything, and usually with a lot of food and alcohol."

"And toasts," said Butler with a small smile. He refilled Sensat's glass. "Your turn."

"First tell me what the cans are supposed to be."

Butler picked up one of the odd cylinders and twisted it. Immediately, a light but pervasive floral scent assaulted Garrus's nostrils. "I think," said Melanis, "this is Mrs. Butler's way of telling us all to shower more." That got a grunt from Vortash.

"We're a bunch of guys guys living the good life of murder, arson, and sabotage. We're allowed to skip a damn shower now and then."

Sensat made a face. "You, maybe. I'll toast to showers. And the distant possibility of Sidonis remembering to clean his damn armor before dumping it on my bunk." Five glasses again went clink-Garrus didn't drain his. He foresaw the distinct possibility of taking care of the rest of his friends tonight.

That made it Melanis's turn. "To big explosions, sharp knives, and ass-kicking for great justice!" Melanis's proclamation got a roar of approval, and Garrus had to smile. Melanis sometimes reminded him very forcefully of himself when he was younger.

Garrus braced himself for Vortash saying something coarse. The batarian got to his feet and tipped his bottle solemnly toward Garrus.

"To this crazy bastard, who makes all that possible," he said quietly. All four of his eyes were fixed on Garrus's.

A bomb could have gone off and none of them noticed. Very slowly, Garrus raised his own glass and the others followed suit, all watching him and Vortash. He raised the wine to his mouth and drank, but found it difficult to swallow. The memories still caught up to him from time to time. He'd once made a very similar toast to the woman who pulled together a very similar team of misfits.

They were all quiet, waiting for Garrus to say something. Finally, unable to come up with anything better, he murmured, "To the fallen," and drained his glass.

Spirits bless Melanis, who quickly started pestering Butler about what chocolate tasted like, and whether it really was good enough to risk being sick. Garrus got to his feet and made his way downstairs on the pretense of getting more food and drinks for everyone. He leaned against the weapons locker and closed his eyes.

He couldn't decide which was worse-the way Shepard still haunted him, or the slow, inevitable decay of his memories. They didn't do her justice; in life she'd been brighter, fiercer, stronger than the phantom that followed him from the Citadel all the way to Omega. Almost two years later, and he still saw her when he was off his guard.

Approaching footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to see Butler. The human handed Garrus a new glass of wine. "Here, boss. You looked like you needed it."

"Thanks." Garrus gestured toward the party still going on upstairs. "You should go enjoy yourself, Butler."

"Eh, I wanted a little peace and quiet. I'm not as young as, say, Melanis." Butler joined him at the weapons locker, still fiddling with the watch on his wrist. "I still can't believe Nahla got this for me. You ever get a gift like that?"

"A watch?"

"No. Something that really means a lot to you, no matter its practical worth."

Garrus thought about it for a moment. Turians tended to exchange more practical things than humans did. But there was one thing...

"Not anything tangible," he said slowly. "It was more like an...an ethos, in human terms."

"Got that from Commander Shepard, did you?"

Garrus gaped. He hadn't told anyone on his team about the mission to stop Saren, and news about Citadel space tended to be glossed over in the Terminus systems, even news like a geth attack. Butler chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I thought you looked familiar from the vids, but Shepard was a lucky guess. Other people out here may not pay attention to the rest of the galaxy, but I do." He watched Garrus's expression slowly change from surprise to something much more somber.

"Yeah," said Garrus very softly. "I got it from her." He looked into the deep red liquid in his glass, not meeting Butler's eyes.

"Hey." Butler let go of Garrus's shoulder and took a step back. "I'm sorry about what happened. If you don't wanna talk about it-"

"It's fine." Garrus sighed and took a long sip of his wine. "I'd like to think she'd approve of gunning down mercs on Omega." The words came out sounding more bitter than he'd intended. "I-I just-"

"You miss her."

He closed his eyes again, leaning his head against the armor locker with a dull thunk. "Yeah," he admitted. "I miss her." It'd taken him two years to say the words out loud. When he finally opened his eyes again, he saw Butler regarding him with a very sympathetic smile.

"When my brother died, I felt like someone had punched a hole through my gut," said Butler. "He was my twin, you know? We grew up together, did everything together. Everyone tells you to move on with life, but that's bullshit. They'll always be a part of you." He smiled and shrugged. "I'd say it's human nature, but, well..."

"I understand," said Garrus. "It's just that I miss her more than I thought I would. More than...a soldier usually misses his officer."

The older human gave him a long, searching look. "You'd feel a lot better if you spat it out, Garrus."

"What are you, a shrink?"

Butler sighed. "There are no shrinks on Omega, my friend. If there were, this place would be different." There was a long silence after his words, which Garrus broke by clearing his throat.

"Thanks, Butler," he said, lightly punching the human on the shoulder. "I can handle it, but thanks. Go rejoin the party."

Butler raised his eyebrows, but nodded and walked away. Garrus waited until he was gone before booting up his omnitool. He flicked past all the documentation on the Omega mercs to an image from Christmas on the Normandy, just a few months after he'd joined the crew.

It was a candid shot, and it was the only one he had of her where she wasn't Commander Shepard with a capital C and S. Williams and Joker were sitting in the mess hall, wrapping presents for the crew while Tali looked on with powerful curiosity. Liara stared dubiously into a mug of something called eggnog while Shepard watched the whole thing with the hint of a smile on her face. Garrus enhanced the picture, zooming in on her face. It was one of the few times he'd ever seen her relaxed, at peace.

His fingers clipped through the image projection as he brushed the edge of her face. "I miss you, Shepard," he whispered. "And I wish..."

_I wish you'd come back. I wish I'd had the guts to tell you._


	3. Chapter 3

**Ghost**

_By KSCrusaders (Sable Rhapsody on BSN)_

A/N: With all the hulabaloo over the endings, I tried to leave what happens on a larger scale as ambiguous as possible as I have yet to find an ending, fan theory, or headcanon that completely satisfies me. But as far as I'm concerned, Shepard and Garrus go together, in life or death, so here's one version of what might happen.

* * *

><p>PART THREE<p>

His first breath after the flash felt like liquid fire flooding his lungs. He tried to open his eyes, but the light-the light was taking all of them to pieces. Hands tugged on the remnants of his armor, and he feebly tried to bat them away.

"Garrus-"

A familiar voice, female, but not hers. Very slowly, he forced himself to turn toward the sound. It faded in and out of his awareness, like radio chatter from too far away.

"He's hurt badly-Liara, help me-"

More hands tried to lift him and he cried out in pain as multiple somethings bent the wrong way. Every movement hurt, every touch burned against his skin. He tried once again to see and found that he couldn't; something had sealed his vision. Perhaps it was for the best. He was increasingly certain that he didn't want to be a part of whatever was going on out there, even as the glow increased through his closed eyelids. He could feel that searing light starting to burn into his skin.

"...try to get him back to the shuttle, maybe Normandy's medbay-"

The light flared, then subsided, and suddenly, he knew. In his heart of hearts, he knew what had happened, and he stopped struggling toward the voices swarming around him. Instead, he heard her voice, whispering to him from minutes ago and lifetimes away.

_"If I'm up there in that bar and you're not, I'll be looking down. You'll never be alone."_

"Never," Garrus whispered back with the scrap of air left in his lungs. The last syllables came out in a rattling cough, but strangely enough, the pain grew more and more distant. He felt warm again despite the twisted metal and concrete pressing insistently into his side. Then the warmth fled, replaced by another sickening wave of pain.

"Garrus, talk to me," said one of the voices, the female one. Liara. He couldn't shake his head, couldn't even move his neck, but he let himself slump away from her, sliding farther down the wreckage on which he lay. She caught him by the arm, and Garrus couldn't fight down agony that shook him from head to foot. "Garrus, don't you dare. Shepard wouldn't-"

"No," he gasped. He reached blindly for Liara and caught her hand, squeezing it with what was left of his strength. "Have to...meet her there. I'm...buying."

"He's delirious-"

"Christ, look at all that blood-"

"Shuttle incoming-"

"Liara..." He felt the asari lean in closer; hot tears fell on what remained of his chest and face. Liara knew.

"Don't do this," whispered Liara. Very gingerly, she lifted his upper half into her lap, cradling him like a child. "There's a shuttle coming. Cortez made it. We'll find Shepard and..." The words choked in her throat. Liara knew the truth of it every bit as well as he did, and she was too smart to delude herself. He felt her tears falling faster. "Goddess, it's so unfair."

Somehow Garrus found himself smiling. He found her cheek, covered in ash and streaked with tears, and gently brushed it with his gauntlet. "She...Kaliya would...want to see you smile."

"What about you?"

His silence answered that question. More and more footsteps pounded into the ground around his head and other hands, more practiced and regular in their movements, lifted him up onto some kind of stretcher. "My rifle-"

Liara pressed it into his hands. Even in his condition, he could still feel for the trigger. It felt good, safe. He could hear her limping alongside the stretcher, but she didn't say anything. He could imagine the look on her face and almost wished he hadn't.

It was getting harder and harder to say things, but he had to tell her, had to make her understand. "I...promised her...promised-"

The stretcher wasn't moving any more. Liara's hands held his ruined ones. He couldn't feel tears anymore, just the gentle pressure of her gauntlets.

"Tell her-" Liara broke into a short sob, and she started again, her voice wavering but clear. "Tell her it worked. Tell her it's over."

Garrus nodded and held both of her hands against his chest. "I will. After I...kick her ass for beating me there." It hurt to laugh, but it was a small victory to laugh together with his friend, after the end of the world as they knew it. It was all beginning to disappear; no cold, no pain, no angry grating of shuttle engines or world-ending flashes of light. "Thank you."

A voice answered him, but it wasn't Liara's.

_"May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead."_

* * *

><p>Liara watched through her tears as the shadow of a smile slowly crept across Garrus's face before he fell still. Her hands pulled off his visor and folded his arms across his chest. Something blue glinted out of his charred and ruined armor; she reached for it almost automatically, and her fingers found a small datapad tucked into the side compartment of his chestpiece.<p>

She expected to find a mission briefing or calibration schematics or something, but the datapad was blank except for one entry. As though in a dream, Liara opened it, barely able to make out the blurry words.

_G-_

_Thanks for the talk...and the vids ;) I couldn't do this without you. Lemme know the next time you're free down in that battery. It's my turn to buy._

_Love from,_

_K_

She might have been overwhelmed by tears just moments ago, but she found herself laughing. Liara got to her feet and turned her face toward the burning sky; a sliver of dawn peeked through the fire and smoke of the horizon. Ashes fell on her upturned face, and each flake felt like the echo of a breath.

"Goddess go with you both." She touched Garrus's forehead with the back of her hand, a final gesture of respect though he was already gone. Alone, Liara T'soni made her way through the destruction to the waiting shuttle. The tears still glistened in her eyes when they met Cortez's, but they didn't fall.

Somewhere out there, there was a place for everyone of every species. A place without war or hunger, pain or despair. It was Thane's sea, Mordin's song, Legion's self, her mother's light, where the quarians wore no suits and the krogan had hope enough for the galaxy.

Where Kaliya Shepard and Garrus Vakarian were at a bar, sharing a drink and a kiss before their hard-earned rest.


End file.
